


If music be the food of love, play on

by bluevalentine69



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Arthur is 27, Arthur likes Control, Blow Jobs, Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Edgeplay, Gay Sex, Hints of 50 Shades of Grey, Innocent!Merlin, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Merlin is 16, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Same-Sex Marriage, Sex Toys, Top Arthur, dom!Arthur, sub!Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:32:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevalentine69/pseuds/bluevalentine69
Summary: As the curtains rise, and the first lingering notes are drawn from the strings of a lone violin, hovering somewhere above the still, expectant bodies in the audience, Arthur’s eye is drawn to the soloist player, a young boy, mouth parted in concentration, pale cheeks stained pink under the heat of the stage lighting, dark hair neatly parted, fingers gracefully holding his bow, jumping across the bridge of his violin with the strength and elegance of a ballet dancer. He understands, for the first time, what film directors are trying to achieve when they focus in on a single moment, examine it carefully, slow down time so that its significance isn’t swept away and lost with all the other insignificant seconds and minutes that make up our lives. Arthur is aware of holding his breath, utterly captivated, and the spell doesn’t break until the boy stops playing, pausing as the rest of the symphony orchestra lifts its instruments and begins to play too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> About the Underage warning: in the UK, 16 is the legal age of consent, and Merlin is 16 when the story starts. However, in some US states, 18 is the age of consent, so I've marked the fic as 'Underage' just in case, for wider audiences. Arthur is 11 years older than Merlin, but it's all consensual etc.

_Arthur sits in pride of place in one of the college theatre’s VIP boxes, fingering the gilted edge of his programme for the evening. He’s Chairman of the board of directors at London’s Royal Camelot Conservatoire; a sixth form college dedicated to the study of classical music. His mother had founded it before he was born, and he’d stepped up to his place - her old place - on the board when he came of age at 21. Now, at 27, the school and its talented young musicians have become one of the greatest highlights of his life._

 

_As the curtains rise, and the first lingering notes are drawn from the strings of a lone violin, hovering somewhere above the still, expectant bodies in the audience, Arthur’s eye is drawn to the soloist player, a young boy, mouth parted in concentration, pale cheeks stained pink under the heat of the stage lighting, dark hair neatly parted, fingers gracefully holding his bow, jumping across the bridge of his violin with the strength and elegance of a ballet dancer. He understands, for the first time, what film directors are trying to achieve when they focus in on a single moment, examine it carefully, slow down time so that its significance isn’t swept away and lost with all the other insignificant seconds and minutes that make up our lives. Arthur is aware of holding his breath, utterly captivated, and the spell doesn’t break until the boy stops playing, pausing as the rest of the symphony orchestra lifts its instruments and begins to play too._

 

At the canapé reception after the concert, Arthur finally finds the boy in the crowd, standing alone by one of the walls, carefully nibbling at a miniature quiche, smiling at passers-by but otherwise trying to avoid attention. He studies him carefully, feeling a strong and sudden urge to  _possess_ him. 

“Who’s that?” he asks Kilgarrah, the college’s headmaster.

“Ah,” Kilgarrah smiles, “our rather prodigious young protégé, Mr Merlin Emrys. He came in on a full scholarship this term - only sixteen. Gaius talent scouted him from a comprehensive in Wales. I think he’s finding it hard to settle.” Arthur frowns, heart jumping as Merlin crouches down to feed crumbs to the school cat, gently stroking behind its ears.

“How so?” Kilgarrah observes Merlin too, something soft on his gruff face.

“He comes from nothing. Our other students - they’re from everything. He’s invisible to them. His life here is very solitary … it’s not healthy for a young boy.”

“No,” Arthur murmurs, thinking back to his own lonely childhood. “I have business soirées at my house most weekends. Perhaps Merlin could play at them? I’ll pay him, of course.” Kilgarrah nods in assent, observing Arthur wryly.

“Well then. Shall I introduce you two?”

 

When Arthur locks eyes with Merlin, that’s it, he’s done for. His eyes are so, so very blue, and shy, and cautious, but they widen in Arthur’s presence, owlish and curious and nervous and lovely. He’s the most beautiful thing Arthur’s ever seen.

 

*

_One month later_

Arthur closes the door to his flat and leans against it as Merlin stands awkwardly in the hallway, not knowing what to do. He feels a gravitational pull towards Arthur, he wants to be close to him, to please him, but he’s not sure how to offer himself. Arthur breaks the silence. 

"Merlin." Merlin looks up nervously at him, fingers worrying the cuffs of the shirt that he’s worn specially to look nice for their date. "Come here." Merlin gladly moves towards him, wanting to be enveloped by his warmth. Arthur doesn’t move though, and Merlin is desperately confused, frustrated that he doesn’t know how to be what this man deserves.

"Merlin," Arthur says again softly, this time raising his hand to stroke along Merlin’s jaw and to lift his chin to look at him. "Tell me what you want," he says quietly, nuzzling against Merlin’s soft ears. Merlin moans quietly in response and melts against Arthur, resting his head against Arthur’s chest, fingers lightly grasping at Arthur’s shirt, not knowing where to touch. 

"You," he says simply, feeling like he’s asking for the world and not expecting to get it. 

"You can have me," Arthur says, turning Merlin’s nervous face up to look at him again, "and I most definitely want you. But what do you _want_?" he says again, whispering the word into Merlin’s ear and feeling his full body shiver in response. "Do you want me to undress you? Touch you? Taste you? Do you want me inside you? Tell me, beautiful boy." Merlin shudders against him, wanting, needing, overwhelmed.

"Everything," he requests, placing his hands on either side of Arthur’s face, eyes wide and imploring and absolutely trusting. Arthur’s breath catches and he nods, taking Merlin’s hands and leading him to his bedroom. He knows Merlin hasn’t done anything with anyone before - Arthur kissed him for the first time on their first date a month ago, after Merlin's third soirée for him - and he knows Merlin will be nervous, unsure; he knows it will hurt. 

He closes the door and leaves the soft bedside lamps on. Sitting on the bed, he gently pulls Merlin towards him until he’s standing between his knees. Watching Merlin’s face, he slowly pulls out his shirt from his trousers and sets about unbuttoning it. As he works his way up and the shirt falls open, he kisses and tastes Merlin’s soft skin, his stomach, his chest, lightly grazing his nipples, feeling him shake in response, tonguing them harder, repeatedly, until Merlin is whimpering. Smiling against his skin, he slides the shirt off his shoulders, and looks at his narrow, skinny body. His pale skin. He feels his cock harden in response. God, this boy is everything he’s ever wanted. 

Merlin blushes and looks down in embarrassment. "I’m not much, I’m sorry," he says, biting his lip, but Arthur pulls him down and presses his lips chastely against the younger boy’s.

"You are the most beautiful, lovely person I’ve ever seen," he says truthfully, making Merlin squirm but seeing a pleased smile playing about his lips. Merlin rests his hands on Arthur’s shoulders as Arthur unbuckles his belt, his trousers, slides them down, lifting each foot in turn and pulling off his shoes first. Then Merlin is standing with his groin pressed to Arthur’s face and Arthur mouths at the hard cock underneath the material of Merlin’s boxers, cupping his balls, sliding his hands under the elastic to touch him for the first time. Merlin stops breathing. 

"Here," Arthur says gently, and stands as he pushes Merlin down to the bed, then shifts him back until he is lying comfortably with a pillow behind him. He slowly peels off Merlin’s pants and watches as Merlin fights not to hide his face, blushing fiercely, looking mortified. Arthur can’t help but stare. Merlin’s cock is mouthwatering - long, pink, untouched, its tip glistening already, hard and bouncing against the flat pale plane of Merlin’s stomach. Arthur raises his right leg and peels off the sock, kissing his ankle, licking his instep, sucking his large toe and watching Merlin writhing and arching on the bed beneath him. He smiles … Merlin’s feet are sensitive … and files away that knowledge for later use. He performs the same routine on Merlin’s left foot. Gently placing both feet on the bed, Arthur makes quick work of stripping, seeing Merlin’s eyes widen as his cock is exposed, and then watching as he reaches into his bedside table to remove a few things. Arthur places them on the bed but doesn’t use anything yet. First he wants Merlin to feel good, to feel relaxed, to stop being so nervous. So he moves to lie on top of him, holding his weight on his elbows, feeling Merlin’s soft gasp as he feels naked skin against naked skin for the first time, cock against cock. He bends down and kisses Merlin, softly, then possessively, licking into his mouth, tongue licking his tongue, sucking his lips, feeling Merlin moan in response, arching against him, desperate for relief. He balances on one arm as the other hand starts to stroke Merlin’s body, softly over his chest, his nipples, his stomach, down to his thighs, round to cup his arse. He kisses and licks down his long neck, biting the warm spot at the base, inhaling behind his ears where his dark hair curls, feels Merlin soften beneath him, pliant, wanting. 

"Arthur," he’s whispering, "Arthur, Arthur, please," without knowing what he’s asking for. 

Arthur moves down his body, kissing as he goes, feeling Merlin thrumming beneath him, his blood pounding. He’s going to break him, he decides, he’s going to ruin him for anyone else. By the end of tonight, Merlin will be tuned for Arthur and Arthur alone.

Eventually Arthur reaches Merlin’s penis and takes his cock into his mouth. Merlin keens in response, arching, hands grasping at the sheets beneath him. Arthur begins to lave at the head, to lick off the pre-come, to suck gently before taking his whole length into his mouth and sucking it down his throat, encouraging Merlin to fuck his mouth, gripping and massaging the base at the same time, overwhelming him with first time sensations. As Merlin is grunting and thrusting into Arthur’s mouth, Arthur reaches one hand back and caresses Merlin’s balls, sucking them too, before using a finger to massage his hole as he sucks the full length of Merlin’s cock again. Merlin is a mewling, writhing, sweating, gasping mess beneath him. He’s whispering _"oh my god … yes, yes … oh my god … Arthur … please, please … oh my, oh my, oh my … nngghh!!!"_ He comes in a hot white spurt into Arthur’s mouth and Arthur swallows him down greedily, milking him through his orgasm, feeling contraction after contraction, waiting until Merlin goes limp beneath him and his cock soft in his mouth before pulling off. He grins wolfishly and moves up Merlin’s body; he looks blissed out and half conscious, eyelids heavy and eyes unfocused, mouth open in surprise, and he sucks his lips.

"How are you feeling?" he asks and is rewarded by a dopey, shy smile and Merlin burrowing into his arms and his neck.

"Amazing," Merlin says quietly, "that was amazing." He seems a little speechless. Arthur could leave it there for his first time but he doesn’t plan on going easy on him. Tonight has just begun.

"Turn over, love," he says, helping as Merlin complies without question, trusting Arthur, giving himself over completely. Arthur kisses the nape of his neck and whispers _"relax"_ as he positions Merlin again, spreading his legs, moving down his body again until he’s kneeling with his face pressed into the crack of Merlin’s arse. He opens Merlin’s cheeks and lets his tongue trail over Merlin’s hole, hearing Merlin whimper again, shocked, embarrassed, but also writhing already. He holds him still and explores his hole with his mouth, sucking it, biting it gently, fucking his tongue into it, pushing the spit in, opening him up, moving a hand underneath to stroke Merlin’s cock, already hardening again in response to his careful ministrations. Reaching at last for the items he’d placed in preparation on the bed, he reaches first for a cock ring, which he places on a sleepy Merlin.

"This time I don’t want you to come so fast," he says, placing gentle kisses to the inside of Merlin’s thigh, "we want to make your first time last, don’t we?" Merlin simply sighs and lets Arthur do what he wants to him, as Arthur slicks up a finger with lube and presses into Merlin’s body for the first time, stroking his leg, whispering "relax for me, okay love, relax" over and over again soothingly as he feels Merlin’s body tighten against this new intrusion. Eventually his body gets used to one finger and Merlin starts emitting sounds of pleasure again, trying to rub himself against the bed, and Arthur inserts a second slicked up finger, crooking it to reach Merlin’s prostate and feeling Merlin suddenly buck and shout. "That’s your prostate," he informs him, massaging the nub skilfully, loving Merlin falling apart beneath him, gasping, moving uncontrollably, groaning loudly, making sounds of disapproval as Arthur withdraws his fingers and slicks himself up. 

"I’m clean," he tells Merlin, "and you’ve never been with anyone else. So I’d like to do this bare, if you’ll let me?" Merlin nods into the pillow. Arthur slowly and gently pushes the head of his penis into Merlin’s tight hole. He sees Merlin wince and squeeze his eyes and fists beneath him. "Hurting?" he asks gently, watching as Merlin mumbles _"yes, I’m sorry,"_ like he’s letting Arthur down and miserable about it. Arthur pauses, wanting nothing more than to thrust hard into the warm, soft body beneath him, wanting to pound this trusting young boy into the mattress, wanting to take him roughly, to claim him, but he forces himself under control and pauses, kissing Merlin’s neck, his shoulders, stroking his thighs, lifting him into a slightly raised position so he can stroke his penis, waits until he feels Merlin hardening again. 

"Can I move now?" he asks and sees Merlin nod cautiously. He begins the slow, slow journey inside, pausing every so often to give Merlin time to adjust, to get used to the sensations, to feel pleasure from being stroked. Clearly this is really hurting Merlin though - Arthur knows he won’t say anything, that he doesn’t want to let Arthur down - but there are tears on his face, which he’s trying to hide in the pillow. Arthur wraps both arms around him, and entwines their fingers, pressed against him, kissing the tears from his face. "Tell me to stop, if it’s too much, but it’ll get easier, sweetheart, I promise." Merlin sniffles beneath him and squeezes his hands in invitation to keep going. Arthur begins to slowly push in and out of Merlin. He angles himself to hit Merlin’s prostate and feels Merlin stiffen, so he knows he’s got the right spot. He continues the slow drag over his prostate, again and again, until Merlin has calmed down and is relaxing beneath him again, face starting to flush with pleasure, cock hardening again. Arthur turns his head to kiss him, slowly, then with intent, fucking in and out of his mouth as he fucks in and out of his arse. He pushes Merlin down onto the bed and starts to move harder, more powerfully, pressing him into the mattress, hitting his prostate hard each time, feeling Merlin arch beneath him, in pain and pleasure, mouth open, face red, head tilted to the side, allowing himself to be relentlessly plundered by the man he loves with his whole being, who he wants to give his whole self to, relishing the feeling of being taken, overpowered, possessed, claimed, wanted. He feels sore, spiking pain from time to time, a stinging burn, but through that he feels warmth, an electric pleasure shooting up and down his spine, he can feel pressure building in his groin again, a tightness coiling inside him that's being wound tighter and tighter, desperate for release, he feels outside his body, all physical sensation, Arthur everywhere, over him, around him, inside him, invading him, and he wants more, he wants him to be closer, he wants more friction, he needs to come, god he needs to come, but he feels the cock ring holding him together, preventing release, preventing any kind of satisfaction.

"Arthur," he grits out in pained frustration - at the brink of his tolerance for pleasure and pain too - the burn is really starting to eat into his pleasure, "Arthur please let me come now," he pleads desperately, as Arthur moves relentlessly in and out, in and out, hard, powerful.

"Not yet, love, not yet," Arthur says, ploughing on, knowing that Merlin can take a little more. He's not undone yet, and Arthur needs him to be undone, remade by Arthur, to belong to him completely. He decides to let go completely, to relinquish all control, to give in to his baser instincts, to take what he’s wanted since he first saw Merlin, and he begins a savage assault, thrusting, pushing, biting, with no respite, enjoying his impossibly resilient stamina, as always, fucking Merlin until he stops writhing, sobbing, hole gaping, face agonised, tears streaming, body shaking, hands gripping the pillow, accepting what Arthur gives him, cock wilting, pain overtaking pleasure, and Arthur knows this is it, this is Merlin’s breaking point, and he slips off the cock-ring and takes him in hand powerfully until Merlin arches with a loud sob and comes at length across the sheets as Arthur releases himself inside him, wave after wave of semen pumping into his exhausted lover. As soon as he's sated, he gently pulls out, feeling Merlin wince, and he massages his bottom, trying to relieve some of the pain. He settles into the pillows and opens his arms, feeling Merlin shakily curl into them wanting to be soothed. He cuddles him and strokes his hair, down his arms, his back, his legs, running his fingers through his own semen oozing out of Merlin’s hole, shushing him, and kissing him and cradling him as Merlin cries softly into his shoulder, tired, in pain, overwhelmed, vulnerable. Arthur tips his face up and makes eye contact with Merlin, kissing his nose, his mouth.

"I’m madly in love with you, Merlin Emrys," he says to the boy curled into his side, "I am so in love with you I don’t know what to do with myself. You’re perfect," he kisses him again, peppering his face and neck, sucking love bites and bruises into his neck and shoulders, "you are mine, you hear me? Mine." Merlin clutches at him more tightly and buries his head into Arthur’s arms. 

"I love you too," he whispers quietly, "so much it hurts. And I don’t know why you want me, but I am yours, only yours, I promise." He looks up earnestly then, beneath wet lashes, and Arthur kisses him passionately, wrapped nakedly around each other, touching everywhere he can reach. 

"Wait here a moment," Arthur says, kissing his temple and covering him in blankets as he pads to the bathroom. He wants to relax Merlin, so he runs a hot bath, with salts and oils, candles, two large classes of brandy, and then wakes up a sleeping Merlin to put him in the hot water, to soothe his aching muscles. "Here, drink this," Arthur says, giving Merlin a brandy with two aspirin dissolved into it. It'll help Merlin sleep and ease the pain of being taken for the first time. Merlin drinks the glass quickly, obliging Arthur as always, and relaxes back into the older man’s embrace, luxuriating in the hot water. 

"You’ll get used to it," Arthur says reassuringly, running his hands possessively over Merlin’s body in front of him. "You’ll get used to taking me and it won’t hurt anymore. I want to get you used to being ready for me all the time, to be able to come just from me massaging your prostate. I want to give you all the pleasure in the world Merlin," he says seriously and earnestly. Merlin smiles softly with his eyes closed and catches one of Arthur’s hands, raising it to his mouth to kiss it gently, reverently, a willing submission. Arthur moves the same hand down to Merlin’s limp cock.

"You’re young," he says teasingly, as he starts to fondle it again gently, "let’s see how many times you can orgasm before I’ve milked you dry, shall we?" Merlin makes a small noise of protestation, objection, tired, and just wanting to relax in the bath, but his body soon begins to respond to Arthur again, cock hardening, body arching, pushing into Arthur’s grip, seeking friction, chasing release again. Arthur keeps pumping slowly, other arm wrapped around Merlin snugly, kissing his temple as Merlin keeps his eyes closed, blissed, tired, aching, horny, until he releases an animal keening sound and comes again. Arthur feels more than besotted, he feels obsessed, he can’t get enough of Merlin, he still wants to ravage him, he wants him in his bed all day every day for the rest of his life so he can attend to him, pleasure him, take pleasure from him, but he knows that Merlin is only 16 and it's too soon, far too soon, to be proposing - asking for - life just yet. Merlin looks like he's ready to fall asleep for days, so Arthur lifts him out of the bath, dries him lovingly and thoroughly and carefully, checks his hole to check for damage - whilst red and puffy there's no bleeding - and administers a soothing gel to help him heal. He then tucks him into bed and Merlin curls tightly into his embrace as Arthur whispers  _"I love you"_ over and over again like a mantra into the dark, feeling Merlin’s lips moving against his chest and offering up the same precious words as he drifts into a happy sleep, feeling loved, and cherished, and safe, maybe for the first time in his life.

 

 


	2. Étude

*

The next morning Merlin wakes up stiff and sore but relaxed, surrounded by pillows and the smell of Arthur. He smiles into the corner of the duvet wrapped around him in sweet embarrassment at the intimacy he experienced last night, but also happiness. He rolls over, reaching out to where Arthur should be and wrinkles his face in confusion, cold dread seeping into him when he finds that Arthur’s not there. What if he regrets it? What if he was disappointing and Arthur doesn’t want him anymore? His heart starts to stutter as he pushes himself upright, but then he sees the door opening, and Arthur walking in beaming, carrying a tray. 

‘I made you pancakes,’ he says, sitting himself down on the bed beside Merlin and pulling Merlin against him, who immediately grins and puts his head on Arthur’s shoulder like a puppy. Arthur is showered and dressed in soft sweats and a t-shirt, bare feet, teeth brushed; he smells fresh and warm and Merlin wriggles against him, sighing happily. Arthur peels off a piece of sticky warm pancake, dripping with syrup and Merlin opens his mouth obediently as Arthur hand feeds him, licking the drips of syrup off his chin as Merlin blushes adorably.

‘How are you feeling?’ Arthur asks when two pancakes and a bowl of strawberries have mostly gone. Merlin shrugs against him.

‘A bit sore, but I don’t mind.’ 

‘Come, love,’ Arthur says holding out a hand to him, and Merlin climbs out of the bed, naked, ruffled, following Arthur into the bathroom, where another hot bath is waiting. Arthur strips and climbs in and holds out his arms for Merlin to follow. Merlin clambers in after him, and Arthur hands him another brandy, with more aspirin dissolved in it, which Merlin takes without question. 

‘I want you to move in with me,’ Arthur whispers as Merlin settles against him. Just the thought of Merlin going back to school and only seeing him at weekends now is unbearable. ‘I’ll speak to your mother and the school, if you’d like that?’ Merlin blinks up at Arthur adoringly, hope and happiness lighting his eyes.

‘Won’t you get bored of me?’ he asks, not quite meeting Arthur’s eyes. Arthur laughs loudly in response. 

‘Not possible,’ he says with certainty. Merlin traces patterns against Arthur’s arms wrapped around him and nods contentedly. 

‘Then yes please,’ he says softly. 

*

When Merlin is out of the bath and dressed, snuggled in a cave of blankets that Arthur has created around him on the sofa, with Lord of the Rings playing on the TV, Arthur calls Hunith. He has already spoken to her; he called when he wanted her to give permission for Merlin to leave the school to do evening soirées, and to stay overnight last night. He tells her that he’s become a good friend of Merlin’s and that he’d like him to have a proper home in London, like many of his peers at school, instead of the cold dormitories reserved for scholarship students not resident in London. Hunith asks to speak to Merlin. 

‘Hi mum!’ he says cheerfully, hitting pause on the remote.

‘Do you want to move in with Arthur, darling?’ she asks him. He feels his face splitting into a smile.

‘Yes, I do,’ he says to her simply. If his mother can hear something in his voice she doesn’t say anything, but agrees to fill out the change of address form on the website immediately and email it to the headmaster.

Merlin and Arthur pick up his few things that afternoon and Arthur takes Merlin shopping in celebration. He wants Merlin to have his own room so that he’s got his own space, but naturally he hopes that Merlin will sleep in his room most nights. He buys new bedding in Merlin’s favourite shade of blue, new clothes for Merlin, the new music books he mentioned wanting, all his favourite treats for the pantry; marshmallows, hot chocolate, pastries. Merlin is protesting half-heartedly but is laughing delightedly, skipping ahead of Arthur, making grabby hands for the marshmallow bag, scrunching up his face into a pout when Arthur says not until he’s eaten supper. 

When they're home and unpacked and Merlin has excitedly explored every corner of his new home, Arthur sits on the sofa and pulls Merlin on top of him. He kisses him sweetly at first, cherishing him, tasting his tongue, sugary from the marshmallows, feels Merlin responding, licking back against him, hands growing more confident, stroking across Arthur’s broad chest, making slight needy noises into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur chuckles. ‘Have I created a monster?’ he asks fondly, sliding his hands down to cup Merlin’s small arse. Merlin blushes and smiles and nips at Arthur’s neck in response. 

‘I know you’re still sore, love,’ he says, ‘but I want to be inside you again. Can you bear that?’ Merlin takes a shaky breath but nods at Arthur; Arthur knows he’d never refuse him. Arthur instructs him to stand up and take all his clothes off. He watches as Merlin complies bashfully, adorably awkward, pushing his own jeans and boxers down before pulling Merlin to sit on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his shoulders.

‘You’re going to ride me,’ he tells Merlin, ‘it will give you control of how you want it, how you want to feel, how fast or slow you want it, okay?’ Merlin just mouths at his neck as Arthur coats two fingers in lube and presses them into Merlin’s tight hole. He hears Merlin’s sharp intake of breath, the small whimper, and god he needs to take him properly but he doesn’t want to hurt him. He’s planned for this. He has some leftover painkillers - strong ones - from when he hurt his back earlier this year, and he hands two to Merlin and tells him to take them, to ease the way. Merlin does. Whilst Arthur waits for the drugs to work he kisses Merlin’s throat, uses one hand to stroke his body, the other hand still pressing fingers into Merlin’s arse, gently scissoring, warming him, opening him up slowly. Merlin begins to rock back onto them, seeking pleasure again, Arthur knows, so he crooks his fingers to stroke Merlin’s prostate and feels his happy response.

‘Is it still hurting?’ he asks, aware of his own throbbing cock, desperate for Merlin’s warmth. Merlin shakes his head dopily. He’s slight and the painkillers are strong, he feels drugged, warm, like he’s floating, aware of the pain pushing on the outskirts of his consciousness but feeling nothing but warm arousal, the comfort of sitting in Arthur’s lap, arms circling him. He rests his head forward against Arthur’s shoulder and lifts himself up slightly so that Arthur can impale him. Arthur does so quickly, no gentle push inside this time, he positions himself and pushes in hard, fast, in one swift move, pulling Merlin down until he’s seated on Arthur, and Arthur’s deeply nestled inside. Arthur groans in pleasure.

‘Move sweetheart,’ he says to him and Merlin begins to rock, tentatively in his lap, feeling Arthur inside him, finding the place where Arthur pushes against his prostate, massaging his pleasure spot. Sighing happily, he keeps the gentle rocking, feeling pleasure bubbling in his lower spine, but in no hurry to chase it, just enjoying being warm, being with Arthur, belonging to him, being intimate, close. Arthur’s arms are wrapped around him strongly and he’s letting Merlin take what he wants, breathing in his scent, enjoying the growing confidence of his lover. Merlin begins to rock harder, his breathing hitching, and Arthur takes his cock in hand and strokes it in time with Merlin’s rocking until Merlin throws his head back and arches, come spurting all over Arthur’s chest. Arthur runs a hand through it and sucks his fingers, tasting Merlin’s seed. He holds a limp Merlin against him as he rocks up into him again, chasing his own pleasure, fucking in and out of him again and again and again, Merlin pliant against him, accepting the assault, feeling his penis hitting bone inside Merlin. Merlin just nestles softly into his neck, taking it, and his submissiveness tips Arthur over the edge and he comes powerfully inside Merlin, feeling Merlin kiss his neck softly as he does. 

‘God,’ Arthur says as he comes down from his high, stroking Merlin’s lower back, ‘God, I love you. I’m addicted.’ Merlin giggles in response and Arthur slides out of him, before telling Merlin to stay calm as he inserts a lubed up butt plug into Merlin’s hole.

‘I want to keep you open for me,’ he says, voice low, holding Merlin tight, stroking his hair, kissing his eyelids. Merlin squirms a little uncomfortably but doesn’t say anything, just huddles tighter against Arthur as Arthur sucks more bruises against his throat. He loves marking his body as his. 

He’s making cookies later as Merlin does his homework at the kitchen counter, licking the dough from the stirring spoon innocently when he next feels the urge. He moves round to stand behind Merlin, pulling him off his stool, pulling down his trousers and pants to his knees without ceremony, bending him to lean across his homework, rucking up his shirt, and removing the butt plug, his come seeping out of Merlin’s raw hole as he thrusts inside again without preparation. He takes him hard, roughly, spreading his legs to get deeper, hits his prostate every time and hears Merlin’s breathless groans from where his head rests on his arms on the kitchen counter. 

‘Come for me Merlin,’ Arthur orders as he pounds him mercilessly, ‘come without me touching you, come from my cock, come on, come on darling,’ he is ruthless and Merlin is groaning incomprehensibly, shaking apart beneath him, and then he stills and comes, with a shout, shooting white across the side of the counter, shaking through it until Arthur releases and stills inside him, breathing in the unique scent behind his ears. He reinserts the plug, pulls up Merlin’s trousers, and re-seats him on the stool to continue with his homework while the cookies are baking and Arthur cleans up their latest sex puddle. 

Before Merlin goes back to school on Monday Arthur has thoroughly de-virginised him. He’s taken him in every room, on or against every surface, in every position, sucking him, jerking him, pounding him, massaging him, washing him, plugging him, taking him in his sleep. Merlin is exhausted, he’s sore, but his body is starting to automatically respond to Arthur’s touch, he’s being trained to need him - to need him regularly, to need release. 

*

Over the next few weeks they establish their flat rules. Merlin wakes up to Arthur inside him or going down on him. Arthur takes him again in the shower and plugs him and washes him for the day. Arthur makes them both breakfast and then drops Merlin at school. Merlin still loves the music, he excels, he is still quiet, shy, he keeps to himself, but everyone notices he holds himself differently, his head’s held a little higher, he’s filling out his uniform better, he looks healthier, happier, there’s a new assurance about him, he smiles more easily. He stays after school in the library to do his homework, or in the music rooms to practice the violin, the piano, until Arthur can pick him up on his way back from work and take him home. Arthur cooks supper and Merlin eats on his lap, sometimes with Arthur buried deep inside him. They tell each other about their days. Merlin calls his mum while Arthur cleans up. Then they move to the sofa, where Merlin sucks Arthur reverently, gently, insatiably, needing his shot of hot come before he can relax for the evening. Arthur massages Merlin, nuzzles him, kisses him, until he is hard again, and then sits Merlin in his lap facing forwards so they can both watch the television or listen to music whilst Arthur rocks inside him. As soon as they’re in bed, Arthur makes love to him properly, worshipping him, kissing every part of him, lavishing attention on his most sensitive spots; his feet, the insides of his knees and thighs, his nipples, his neck. Sometimes Merlin comes just from being touched and kissed and adored, and then comes again when his prostate has been stimulated enough, and then again as Arthur physically loves every part of him. They always fall asleep exhausted, still horny, sticky from come and sweat, Merlin’s hole oozing the remnants of the day’s lovemaking, unless Arthur keeps him plugged during the night so he can wake up and take him him throughout the night. 

*

Arthur has his father and sister and friends round for Saturday dinners and Sunday lunches and introduces Merlin as his boyfriend, which makes Merlin squirm and flush with pleasure. He talks about him with such pride - he’s a musical prodigy, so clever, so beautiful, so lovely. Everyone adores Merlin. They come to see him in concert and he always grins at the end of his performances when he spots Arthur and his friends and family in the front row giving him a standing ovation, applauding loudly. His mother comes to stay. She sees immediately the relationship between her son and at first it worries her - is Merlin being taken advantage of, used, mistreated? But he positively reverberates with happiness whenever Arthur is near him, he looks healthy for the first time in his life, he’s clearly being fed and wonderfully looked after, he wears soft, expensive clothes that Hunith could never afford, jewel-coloured cashmere jumpers and soft scarves. He’s full of stories; Arthur has taken him to all the galleries in London, all the museums, all the concerts, the plays, the ballets, the operas. He’s taken him to Rome and Paris and Barcelona in his school holidays or for long weekends. Merlin is vibrant and excited and thrumming with life. His grades are excellent. He’s thinking about studying Music at Cambridge; Arthur went there too - Politics and Philosophy and Economics - and Arthur’s taken him to visit, taken him in a punt, walked him round all the colleges, enthusiastically giving him a history of each one and showing him all the best pubs. Arthur is devoted to Merlin; Merlin worships Arthur in return. Their relationship is so intense it shakes Hunith. She’s never seen anything like it before. She worries if Merlin would recover if it ends. His sentences begin and end with Arthur. He seems to _feel it_ when Arthur enters the room, his body shifting towards him almost imperceptibly. When Arthur’s had a bad day at work and he comes home stressed and grumpy she sees how Merlin simply takes him to the sofa and crawls into his lap wordlessly, cradling him lovingly, running his fingers through his blonde hair, head on his shoulder until Arthur visibly starts to relax against him, breathes more easily, returns Merlin’s embrace, and then it’s as though the storm has left his face and he asks about Merlin’s day and Merlin tells him something silly or funny and everything’s fine again. So she goes home and lets it be, lets things unfold as they will.

 


	3. Fugue

Time passes and Merlin has been living with Arthur for two years. He’s 18. He’s finished school and is about to go to Cambridge, St John’s College, the same as Arthur. He’s become a beautiful, handsome young man; striking, tall, lean, quietly confident, brilliantly talented but humble, loved and secure in Arthur’s affections, well fed and well dressed. He’s funny, sweetly funny, and he teases Arthur relentlessly. He’s learnt to cook. He’s learnt to top, from time to time, loving the feeling of taking Arthur, of possessing him too. He’s naturally more gentle taking Arthur than Arthur is in taking him; even after two years they’re never sated, it never feels like enough. 

Arthur’s friends have become his friends too, and he’s popular; he feels like he belongs to and with them all. Arthur is home, Arthur is his compass, his guide, his mentor, his friend, his family, his lover. Arthur is his everything and he is devoted to him with his whole being. Everything he is and has is Arthur’s. They haven’t been apart for even a night since the night Arthur took Merlin’s virginity and neither of them is looking forward to Merlin going to Cambridge, to living in college. But they both know that Merlin needs to be allowed to become an adult, to live by himself, to look after himself. Arthur’s worried that Merlin will meet someone else, his own age, and not want Arthur anymore. Merlin says Arthur’s ridiculous. Arthur knows, if Merlin’s truly his though, that he won’t stray, he’ll always come back; come home. 

They settle into a new routine. Merlin is a university student Monday to Friday, he’s part of several societies, he makes a firm group of friends - Will, Gwaine, Freya - and they go clubbing, he learns how to dance, how to deal with hangovers; he’s a regular young adult. He and Arthur Skype and call and text every day, photos of what they’re doing, silly updates, just to stay connected. But Saturday he goes home to Arthur and they spend all weekend reacquainting themselves, Arthur ravishes him, Merlin holds him reassuringly, promising he’s still his, that there will never be another. They drag themselves out of bed on Saturday nights, sometimes to go out to the cinema, to the theatre, to a concert, to see their mutual friends. Arthur watches as Merlin sits relaxed next to him, handsome, assured, elegant, a man now, not a boy, enjoying his wine, talking about books and politics, charming, clever, funny. He takes him home and makes love to him, kisses every inch of him he doesn’t get to touch during the week. And on Sunday nights he drives Merlin back to Cambridge. Sometimes he stays. Merlin introduces him to his friends as ‘my Arthur.’ Arthur is wary of Will and Gwaine but is charming and Merlin flushes proudly and happily. 

Everything is fine until Merlin’s 19th birthday. His uni friends throw him a party at a club and Merlin wants Arthur to be there too. Arthur’s never seen Merlin clubbing before. He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like seeing Merlin drunk, dancing without any inhibitions, free, sexy as hell, grinding against the different men who pull him to their chests, who nuzzle down his neck as he laughs. He spins away when they try to start mouthing at him, when they get too handsy, but there’s no denying it, Merlin is _gorgeous_ and ridiculously hot and men and women alike are drawn to him, want to touch him. Arthur feels the poison of jealousy wash through him, irrationally furious, angry. He knows Merlin’s just enjoying himself, he’s not letting anything happen, but he’s dancing with _other people._ He’s enjoying their attention. He’s letting them touch him, invade his personal space.

Gwaine comes up to him and follows his glare. ‘Alright Princess?’ he inquires easily. ‘Looks like you’ve sucked a lemon there.’ Arthur grimaces at him.

‘Does this a lot does he?’ he asks Gwaine. Gwaine looks a bit confused.

‘Dancing?’ he asks, ‘Yeah all the time, Merlin loves dancing!’ he chuckles, ‘Normally takes three of us to pull him off the dance floor and get him home when the clubs close.’ Arthur watches as a burly man - a rower probably - comes up behind Merlin and whispers something into his ear. Merlin blushes and _giggles_. Arthur’s done. He doesn’t want to ruin Merlin’s birthday or embarrass him by going all caveman on him - because really what he wants to do is drag him by the back of his shirt out of the club all the way home and to lock him up for a few days - so instead he simply puts down his drink and leaves. He marches through the cobbled, picturesque streets of Cambridge angrily, buys a bottle of whisky, takes it back to his hotel to numb his fury, calm himself down. He sees several messages on his phone. 

_*Missed call*_  
_*Missed call*_  
  
23.31 _Where are u?  
_ 23.35 _Arthur?_  
  
_*Missed call*_  
  
23.42 _Baby where did u go? U ok? Worried :( x_  
  
_*Missed call*  
_ _*Missed call*  
_ _*Missed call*_  
  
23.50 _ARTHUR! For fucks sake. Pick up your bloody phone._  
  
  
Arthur checks the time on his phone. It’s now ten past midnight. He quickly types a response and presses send.  _Sorry, headache, walked back to hotel. Enjoy party x_

Pulling the lid off the bottle with a pop, he takes a long swig and wills himself to be drunk. He can’t bear the images imprinted on his eyelids - Merlin enjoying the attention of other men and women, Merlin drunk and happy, Merlin dancing provocatively, grinding his hips against _people that aren’t him_. It’s all his worst fears come true. Merlin needing to be free, to explore other options and avenues - if Arthur hadn’t claimed Merlin at 16, would he even be gay? Will he be able to settle down, to truly be Arthur’s, if he hasn’t experienced other people? If he does, would Arthur ever be able to move past that, to forgive him? That’s if he even chose to come back. He sees his phone buzz.  
  
00.13 _Haha old man can’t cope with loud music! Was hoping for a dance :(. Be with u in a couple hours, got room key. Love you xxxx  
  
_Arthur thuds his head against the whisky bottle. _Idiot,_ he mutters to himself. _You fucking, bloody,_ ** _idiot_**. He gets up, puts his shoes back on, grabs his phone and keys, and walks back to the club. Clearly he's insecure as hell and needs a proper talk with Merlin, but not tonight, not on his birthday. He makes his way to the top floor, pulsing with the beat of the music, lights flashing, young bodies pressed together. He spies Merlin’s dark hair still dancing over by his group of friends, this time with another guy, clearly gay, wearing tight leather trousers and eyeliner. Merlin’s eyes are closed and he's swaying his hips, but he's moving to the music, not to the man. Arthur still feels his chest squeeze and contract tightly and forces the bile down. He goes over and taps leather boy on the shoulder. Leather boy looks round at him angrily, but Arthur simply muscles in, hand sliding down Merlin’s front to squeeze his crotch. His eyes fly open in shock and horror; and then he sees Arthur and relaxes immediately. Arthur sees the grin, the confusion, the open ‘ _What?’_ on his mouth. He just shakes his head and turns Merlin around, circling his arms around him, pulling him back into his chest, his arse into his crotch, pushing his hard erection against him in time with the music, sliding his hands under his shirt, rubbing against the smooth skin there, grinding to the beat, hand surreptitiously working against the front of Merlin’s trousers, feeling his own arousal, his head tipped back in pleasure, his eyes closed, his fingers entwined with Arthur’s. The music changes and Arthur spins him out, to Merlin’s surprise, his eyes widening as he laughs disbelievingly … Arthur is a pretty fucking awesome dancer too. Soon they have a circle of people making room for them on the dance floor as they spin each other and move against each other furiously and hold each other. Arthur drags Merlin across to the bar for birthday shots from time to time, to Gwaine's delight.

‘Yessss!!’ he keeps shouting over the music, pumping air, thumping Merlin’s back, 'this guy is fucking _brilliant_!’ Merlin is flushed and pleased and looking at Arthur from under his long dark eyelashes, fingers always touching part of his handsome boyfriend as he organises drinks, pulling at his shirt, looped into his belt, until Arthur turns around and pulls him back onto the dance floor. 

At 3am the music lowers and it's time to leave. Merlin and his friends and Arthur stumble drunkenly out of the club and stop at one of the many kebab vans on the way back to their college. They sit on the side of the street with the other student revellers and eat their greasy kebabs, Merlin’s legs out, ankles crossed, leaning against Arthur happily and tiredly. When they're done, Arthur and Merlin separate from the group going back to college to head for their hotel for the night; Arthur had wanted a large double bed instead of Merlin’s narrow single. 

‘Don’t break the bed you two!’ Gwaine calls as he dances away from them, ‘nothing you can be arrested for!’ Merlin laughs and shakes his head, slipping his hand into Arthur’s as they make their way quietly back to the hotel. Once they're in their room, Arthur kisses Merlin’s temple and says he's getting in the shower. Merlin looks at him, confused, but nods as Arthur goes into the bathroom. 

He sits down in the armchair and stares miserably at the closed door. What's happened? Arthur's never taken a shower without him before? He’s never got Merlin home after a night out and not ravaged him immediately. He’d been silent all the way home. Merlin plays with his fingers nervously and sees the bottle of whisky, a quarter drunk, on the bedside table. He looks up as he hears the bathroom door open and sees Arthur walking out like a god, white towel wrapped low on his hips, steamy bathroom behind him, gold light making his hair glow, and the water droplets on his defined, Greek statuesque body sparkle. Merlin’s mouth waters and his cock stirs and he wants, every part of him wants and needs, hungry for his lover, but Arthur doesn’t look at him, he simply dries himself off tiredly before pulling on some clean boxers and a clean t-shirt and sliding into bed. They never sleep with clothes on. One of their rules is that the bed is a naked space. Merlin pushes himself up sadly and goes into the bathroom himself, showering quickly, brushing his teeth. He dries off and then switches out the lights, just leaving the soft desk lamp on to give the room light as he slides into bed himself, naked, cosying up to Arthur, nuzzling his neck softly, mouthing at him, running his hands underneath his t-shirt, slipping it under the elastic of Arthur’s boxers, gently playing with Arthur’s warm, soft cock. He knows Arthur is awake; his breathing hasn’t settled into deep sleep yet. 

‘Did you have fun tonight?’ he asks cautiously, a little afraid. Arthur turns his head to the side and opens his eyes. He runs a gentle hand along Merlin’s jaw, which Merlin gladly presses into, and then leans in to kiss him softly, feeling Merlin’s tongue lick out in response, encouraging, eager. He pulls away.

‘Yes love,’ he says, cuddling Merlin, but closing his eyes again. Merlin huffs in frustration and taps Arthur on the nose. Arthur opens his eyes again.

‘Arthur what’s wrong?’ Merlin says seriously, forcing Arthur to look at him. Arthur grimaces, which makes Merlin’s heart feel cold with terror, but he just pushes Merlin’s head to his shoulder.

‘It’s late,’ he says tiredly, ‘I need to sleep, can we talk tomorrow?’ Merlin feels like gravity is shifting beneath him, he feels hot and sick and _terrified_. Tears well in his eyes. Arthur doesn’t want him anymore. He knows it, he knows that’s what's coming.

‘Arthur, tell me now please,’ he says in a small, shaky voice, full of restrained pain. ‘I can’t sleep if there’s something wrong with us.’ He sits up in bed and waits for Arthur to sit up too, which he does eventually, and reluctantly. He won’t look at Merlin, he just stares into the room, his face in agony, his eyes dark and haunted, shoulders hunched, arms around his knees. 

‘Arthur,’ Merlin whispers, reaching out a hand to place on Arthur’s calf, stroking his leg gently whilst he waits for Arthur to speak.

Arthur sighs heavily and rubs his eyes.

‘I think we should take some time apart.’ he says, voiced laced with pain. Merlin feels like he’s been stabbed with a shard of ice.

’No!’ he protests, angry and hurt now, tears running freely, shaking Arthur’s shoulder, ‘No, Arthur! Why would you say that? What’s happened?’ he demands, then speaking more brokenly, he breathes ‘Is it me? Don’t you .. don’t you love me anymore?’ he sniffs, shaking with his sobs, not willing to stop touching Arthur. Arthur can’t bear it. He reaches out and pulls Merlin into his arms, allowing him to sob into his t-shirt, feeling like his heart is breaking in two. 

‘I love you more than anything in this world,’ Arthur whispers into his hair, ‘but I know that because I’ve been with other people. I know you’re different, I know you’re it for me. I know I could never want anybody else, the idea is ludicrous. But you,’ he says quietly, stroking Merlin’s back, ‘you are so young, I took you so young,’ he pauses, ‘maybe that was wrong of me, I couldn’t help myself.’ Merlin makes a sound of protest and shakes his head furiously, but Arthur silences him. 

‘I saw you this evening Merlin … you were enjoying the attention of other people, you were enjoying flirting, you liked dancing with them - men and women. You’ve never explored your sexuality, I’ve never given you the chance to. I think you need to, I need to let you go. And maybe you’ll want to come back to me one day, but you won’t know you want me until you’ve had others, until you’ve got a point of comparison. Thinking about anyone else near you - hell, even watching people dance with you - it makes me sick Merlin, physically sick. But I love you and I’m not going to trap you, to take anything away from you, any experience. You deserve everything.’ 

Merlin snorts and pushes out of Arthur’s arms, now looking decidedly angry rather than upset. Furiously he brushes his hand across his wet face and then shoves hard at Arthur.

‘You,’ he says, shoving him again, ‘are a complete and total ARSEHOLE sometimes,’ another angry shove, ‘yes, I like dancing, yes it’s nice to be fancied, to feel like I’m attractive and worth something … for YOU … you giant, enormous, arrogant CLOTPOLE. I have NO interest in other men or women. I have NEVER felt sexual attraction to anyone that isn’t you. Would I be straight or gay if I wasn’t with you? I DON’T KNOW ARTHUR,’ he says, yelling now, ‘it doesn’t matter, I don’t plan to find out, I am Arthur-sexual and that is all I want. I am not INTERESTED in experimenting, you hear me? I don’t WANT to explore. The thought of being apart from you makes _me_ feel physically sick,’ another - hard - shove at a dazed Arthur, ‘it’s not even a _choice_ for me, I’m just yours, and I know I’m not much but I’m yours and I always will be and it’s that simple and you’ll just have to deal with that you bloody great IDIOT. You have always given me EVERYTHING. You make me happy. I want to be sucking your wrinkly cock in fifty years time. Don’t you DARE try and make decisions for me because I’m younger than you, I get a say, and I choose you, okay? I. CHOOSE. YOU. And right now I’m fucking FURIOUS with you.’ With that, he throws himself dramatically down onto the bed and rolls over so he’s facing the wall away from Arthur, heaving with emotion, still a bit sad and scared from thinking Arthur didn’t want him anymore, angry with Arthur for making him feel like that because he thinks it’s for his own good, wound up and annoyed beyond belief that his fun birthday night has ended up in the first argument he’s ever had with Arthur. He hears Arthur release a long breath and then start to laugh behind him. That makes him even angrier and he growls into his pillow. _Clotpole_ he curses to himself. Arthur slides up behind him and wraps Merlin into his strong arms. 

‘My you’ve turned into a tough little thing haven’t you?’ he says, voice utterly fond and soft and devoted. He kisses up Merlin’s neck and sucks his ear lobe, grazes it with his teeth, bites into the soft flesh between Merlin’s neck and his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry baby,’ he whispers to him, ‘I’m so sorry I upset you. I’m sorry,’ kiss, ‘I’m sorry,’ kiss, ‘forgive me,’ kiss, ‘I’m sorry,’ kiss. He continues to apologise and to kiss Merlin until Merlin eventually turns round and looks at him grumpily. He smacks Arthur’s chest.

‘You’re an idiot,’ he says to Arthur. 

‘Yes,’ Arthur agrees readily, smiling. ‘A stupid, jealous, crazily in love, idiot. Or, um, was _clotpole_ the word you used?’ 

‘Yes,’ says Merlin wriggling against him, arching a supercilious eyebrow, ‘stupid golden clotpole.’ 

‘Am I _golden_ , baby?’ Arthur breathes seductively into his mouth, pressing a hand down to Merlin’s hardening cock, wrapping around its length, stroking it firmly. Merlin makes a pretend cross face.

‘Don’t think you can orgasm your way out of this Arthur William Coriolanus Pendragon,’ he says in a reprimanding way, arching his body against Arthur and carding a hand through his soft hair. Arthur moves down to suck his nipple, one hand moving behind Merlin’s cock to find his hole, finger rubbing against it steadily until Merlin’s breath quickens, his legs fall apart in invitation, his right foot strokes up and down Arthur’s calf, reassuring him. Arthur reaches across to the bedside table for the lube and coats his fingers as Merlin continues to card both his hands through Arthur’s hair. He takes Merlin’s length fully into his mouth, eliciting a soft sigh from Merlin, and gently sucks him as he works his fingers into Merlin’s hole, opening him up for him. He caresses Merlin’s cock with his tongue, laving at the head, tasting the salty pre-come beading at the tip hungrily. He finds Merlin’s prostate and Merlin quietly comes apart beneath his ministrations, fucking back onto Arthur’s fingers and forward into his mouth, body taught and arched, mouth open in silent glory, hands steady in Arthur’s hair. Eventually he comes, shaking, powerfully, and Arthur drinks him up. Merlin takes the lube in hand himself and slicks Arthur up, raising his hips, _come on baby, get inside me_ , and Arthur pushes forward without teasing, no fuss, no hesitation, right to the hilt, as deep inside Merlin as he can go, and Merlin wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist, heels pushing into the tops of Arthur’s thighs, pushing him in further, encouraging him, welcoming him. His arms are around Arthur’s neck and Arthur’s arms are braced closely on either side of his head; they are pressed against each other tightly, so close, watching each other’s faces, as Arthur moves in and out, relishing the intimacy, the contact, reaching down with one hand to fondle Merlin’s semi-hard penis, working it back into arousal, watching Merlin’s eyes close then, full of trust, secure in the knowledge that they’re okay, they’re safe again, they belong, and they move together with soft touches and reassuring whispers and sighs and warmth until Merlin releases his seed again quietly and Arthur comes inside him, filling him up, wishing, not for the first time that they could create life together, sad that biology has prevented that. He rolls them then so that Merlin is pressed to his chest, legs entwined, and he runs his hands over every part of Merlin he can touch, gently caressing, loving him. 

‘You’re a dangerously sexy dancer, you know that?’ he says as Merlin laughs into his shoulder, ‘ _Dangerous_. It wasn’t good for my health.’ Merlin nuzzles against him affectionately.

‘Says you,’ he chides, ‘I thought the room was going to melt when you started dancing.’ He strokes Arthur’s thigh absentmindedly, lips ghosting across his muscled chest. ‘I do love you, you know,’ he says conversationally, deliberately light. ‘You’re a clotpole but I’ve never loved anyone or anything else more. Not even my music. You’re the _only_ thing I can’t live without.’ He feels Arthur tighten his grip and thinks he feels a small sob shake through him, but he doesn’t say anything, just stays closes, cradles him through it. 

They stay wrapped together, bodies entwined, tangled all night and most of Sunday, making love every few hours, whispering their promises of adoration and life to each other, caressing each other, making each other feel safe again. Arthur doesn’t want to leave on Sunday night, he still feels shaken by their upset, but Merlin kisses him sweetly and tells him to call when he gets home, says he’ll see him in London next weekend for Lance’s stag do; he and Gwen are finally getting married. Arthur just pulls him close one last time before leaving, trying to press his love into Merlin’s bones, and he thinks Merlin understands, smiling softly and waiting on the pavement until Arthur’s car is out of sight. 

 

 


	4. Postlude

Merlin graduates from Cambridge when he’s 21, and Arthur's 32. He and Arthur have been together for five years. He gets a two jobs - one occasionally playing for the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra - but his day job is writing musical scores for plays at RADA - Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. He’s happy and successful and settled in life. After he finished uni, Arthur took a sabbatical from work and they spent four months on a world tour. They did see a lot of the world but after three years of only weekends and holidays together, they also spent a lot of that making up for lost time. Arthur has fucked Merlin in the business class loos of four different airlines. He’s fucked him on a beach, in the sea, in the desert, on the bonnet of a Cadillac in Mid-West America. He goes down on his knees to suck Merlin’s cock and stays there to propose to him under a starry sky at the Grand Canyon. Merlin, blissed out and dazed, cries as he says yes. They fuck again, Merlin on his knees, Arthur taking him from behind. They get married in Las Vegas and have cheesy photos that Arthur thinks are brilliant of them on a pink Mustang with Elvis Presley at the Little White Chapel, gold bands glinting on their fingers, both laughing and relaxed and flushed and clearly happy and in love. They buy ecstasy in a night club and pop pills and fuck on the dance floor in front of thousands of people. No-one throws them out. So they fuck again against the wall of that same club, and once Arthur has come he falls to his knees to suck Merlin to completion too. They wander round the galleries and museums of New York and eat and entertain each other in fancy restaurants and then fuck like animals in Central Park and the downstairs loos of the Waldorf. They fuck in a temple in Hawaii. They fuck on a naked beach in Thailand. They fuck and suck until they’re dry and aching and barely conscious but still it’s not enough; it’s still never enough. 

* 

Arthur wants to try new things when they get home; they’ve already experimented with toys and positions and games, but Arthur wants outfits and role-plays and BDSM; he wants to dominate Merlin, to bind him, strangle him, deny him orgasm, play with pain. He enjoys making Merlin weep with desperation and frustration, keening, needing to come, body trying to curl in on itself, knowing Arthur will punish him if he’s not patient; he’ll make him wait days without orgasm. He dresses Merlin in silk and lace lingerie and puts vibrating beads in his arse before they go out for dinner with friends and family and then he pockets the control and turns the beads on and off throughout the meal, watching Merlin shift uncomfortably in embarrassed arousal, watching his face flush, knowing the beads are humming against his prostate. He’s wearing a cock ring so he can’t come, and Arthur likes to work him up as much as possible, to tease him. He sits on an armchair when they get home and pours himself a large whisky, beads on again, on the fastest setting, taking sips as Merlin stands before him, squirming, face red, tears in his eyes, until Arthur quietly tells his to remove his outer clothes, to leave the lingerie on, and Merlin scrambles to obey, to please him, hoping that tonight he’ll get relief. Arthur crooks his finger and draws Merlin towards him and then slowly pulls out the beads, seeing Merlin’s head go back, his eyes close. He stands up, bends Merlin over the back of the sofa, and replaces the beads with his penis. He fucks him ruthlessly and relentlessly, before he sits, pulling Merlin down against him, fucking into him from behind, drawing blood as he bites his neck, ripping the silk and the lace, cording the silk around his neck and tightening and releasing as he fucks in and out, furiously aroused, and then when Merlin is shuddering and crying and broken he slips off the cock ring and pumps him hard, relishing Merlin’s scream as he’s finally able to come, before he collapses utterly spent and exhausted into Arthur, letting Arthur continue to use him until he’s sated. It’s a phase that lasts a few months and they both enjoy it, but soon they miss ‘real’ sex - Merlin and Arthur not Sub and Dom - and they go back to making love six times a day. 

 *

When Merlin’s 23 they buy a house in the country - somewhere to spend weekends away from their flat in the city. Merlin is in his element. He talks to painters and wallpaper specialists and drags Arthur to antique shops and furniture shows and auctions and makes their country home something extraordinary; comfortable and cosy and practical but beautiful, stylish, bold, tasteful. It’s full of paintings and mirrors and flowers and oriental furniture on one hand, and big scuffed oak coffee tables and worn leather sofas and woollen tartan rugs on the other hand. They have an open door policy, and their house is always full of visitors, wine, smoking, baking, friends, family, colleagues; Merlin’s musical friends all playing string instruments and practicing for a friend’s wedding; Arthur’s lawyer friends watching football or rugby and drinking beer and eating pizza that Merlin and Arthur made from scratch earlier. They spend more and more time there, commuting to London for work and only sleeping in the London flat in Chelsea on late nights. They rarely argue. They cherish each other every day; they’re the envy and the joke of all their friends, the ‘cereal box’ couple. Arthur showers Merlin with presents; food, flowers, silk scarves, gold eye pencils - his new party wear. He’s strong and encouraging and supportive of all Merlin’s ambitions and hobbies and whims. Merlin worships Arthur like a god. He lays himself down like a sacrifice, an offering, night after night, allowing Arthur the control he so needs and enjoys. He is quietly devout, unquestioningly and devotedly on his side whenever things are difficult at work, or with his demanding family. They love each other with a fierce loyalty and possessiveness and protectiveness. 

*

When Merlin’s 25 - and Arthur’s just celebrated his 36th birthday, they discuss adopting children. A year ago they'd rescued a one-year-old Welsh Terrier called Monty into their home, and there are two cats now - Dinky and Filch (Merlin named them - Arthur’s still pretending to be cross) - and they feel ready to expand their happy family. The agency has organised a home visit and Merlin is beside himself running round the house with Monty chasing excitedly after him, wondering if certain things aren’t child friendly - he decides that lube and sex toys _definitely_ aren’t and mutters crossly about Arthur’s inappropriate sexual habits and insatiable sex drive as he stuffs everything into a suitcase and hides it in the loft to Arthur’s great amusement - he’s on the bed naked and laughing having just tried for relaxation sex with his husband - then he goes on a rampage against tables with sharp corners and throws tablecloths over everything so they look like hippies, then he stands anguished and scandalised on the doorstep to the garden wailing about the foxgloves outside the kitchen window.

‘Foxgloves are _poisonous_ Arthur’ Merlin says in a panic, eyes wide and worried, ‘ _poisonous_. They’ll never let a baby into a toxic home full of poison!’ Arthur slips his arms around Merlin and forces him to be still.

‘Relax love,’ he whispers soothingly, rubbing circles on his back, ‘we have a lovely home,’ he tips Merlin’s face towards his, ‘ _you’ve_ made us a lovely home,’ he corrects, ‘we’ll be fine if you stop acting like a lunatic.’ Merlin snorts but buries his head into Arthur, breathing him in, calming instantly. The agency lady - Teresa - loves them, as it turns out, loves Merlin and his earnest fumbling, his homemade flapjacks, his formal introductions to the pets, the way his knee bounces nervously and his hand keeps straying to Arthur’s. Arthur feels absurdly fond, like he’s never loved him more, although he pretty much feels like that with every passing minute. Maybe his capacity for love is infinite where Merlin is concerned. A week later they get a call saying they’ve been approved, and then a couple of months after that there’s a baby girl who needs a home - and then Merlin and Arthur are standing in their sitting room with a three-month year old baby in a pram in front of them. Merlin decided she’d be called Molly Emilia Rose Emrys-Pendragon and Arthur thinks it’s perfect for the little pink sleeping bundle. She’s gorgeous and tiny and has ocean blue eyes and soft skin and wispy dark curls that make her look like she could really be Merlin’s. Merlin is gaping at her in awe and shock and has tears in his eyes and Arthur feels much the same. He and Merlin just cling to each other crying for a few minutes before Merlin snuffles and kisses Arthur reverently. 

‘We have a baby Arthur,’ he says pointlessly. Arthur laughs and kisses him.

‘Yes, sweetheart, we do.’

*

Molly is quite well behaved for a baby but it still changes their lives dramatically. Arthur switches to a four day week and spends one day ‘working at home’ so he can be with his new daughter. Merlin switches to two days at RADA and only occasional stints for London orchestras now, wanting to be at home as much as possible but still needing his creative outlet and his independence. Merlin is a natural father, emotional, responsive, hyper aware of all Moll’s movements, good at waking up and night feeding, pleasant about changing nappies. Arthur is more practical; when Moll gets a rash and Merlin panics, Arthur calmly makes an appointment with the doctor and gently applies the cream, when she has a cough he stays awake in the chair beside her cot all night making sure she’s breathing and okay, he’s great at heating baths to the right temperature and milk bottles to the right temperature and keeping the nappies and talc and baby oil in supply. He plays her recordings of Merlin’s music and quietly tells her ‘this is your brilliant daddy’ and Merlin cries again. He practically leaks with happiness all day every day now. He reads her Shakespeare, which Merlin thinks is ridiculous, but he too curls up at Arthur’s side and listens to stories of Puck and Oberon. Arthur’s determined their daughter is going to be clever and musical, just like her daddy. Merlin calls Arthur Papa to differentiate between them. With their jobs and getting up and down in the night and having a little person relying on them to keep her alive they find that they don’t have so much ‘alone’ time together. They accept this is necessary but struggle; their relationship has always been intensely physical. Their lovemaking becomes more frantic, ardent, passionate, pouring themselves into each other when they do come together, melding together for as long as possible, rocking each other to sleep. They still try to have sex and to be together intimately at least once a day - even if it’s a hurried blowjob or hand job - but normally once they’re in bed they take an hour to tease and touch and fuck and be grown ups again. 

Two years later and one-year old Harry comes along. His mother is a single parent drug addict who died of an overdose. Harry is a shy and quiet and watchful little boy, serious and affectionate, happy to be dressed up and played with by his boisterous, energetic big sister. He reminds Arthur of Merlin when he first met him and that breaks his heart. He makes love to Merlin more seriously, gently, more ardently for a while, pouring love into him, making sure he knows he’s loved. It’s been eleven years, he thinks Merlin knows, but he tells him again and again that he’s his world. Merlin holds him back securely, calm and faithful and strong, unwavering as always when Arthur is emotionally vulnerable. 

 *

On Merlin’s 28th birthday, Arthur takes him to Venice for the weekend and gets a babysitter to look after Molly and Harry. Merlin gasps in delight when he sees their suite at the 7-star Gipriani Hotel, silk embroidered gold and emerald wall paper lining the walls, an opulent four-poster bed strewn with crimson roses, champagne in a silver bucket, a plate of gold dusted cocoa truffles, strawberries, an arrangement of Murano glass flowers with a red velvet box in it; a beautiful Omega watch, inscribed with _‘My beautiful soulmate, yours only and always, Arthur.’_

Arthur tips the bellboy and closes the door quietly, locking it as Merlin opens his watch and looks at Arthur wordlessly. He crosses the room in quick, powerful strides and sweeps Merlin up, lifting him bridal style onto the bed, peeling every item of clothing from him, sucking the soft skin of the inside of his feet, watching his lean and still young lover writhe and moan in bliss beneath him. He feeds him strawberries and chocolates and pours champagne over him, drinking it from his body, pouring it from his mouth into Merlin’s. He ties his wrists behind him and goes down on him, lavishing his hole with attention from his tongue, then a vibrator, angled against his prostate, as he sucks him down slowly, carefully, lovingly, watching as Merlin falls apart beneath his hands. He pulls off before Merlin can come and leaves him groaning with need, vibrator keeping him aroused, as he goes into the bathroom and fills the jacuzzi with bubbles and oils. He returns and extracts the vibrator and turns Merlin over, gently, onto his belly, and covers him with patchouli and sandalwood oil, the rich earthy musky scents pervading the air and turning them both on, he massages every muscle, worships every curve and dip and angle of his husband’s body. He nudges his legs apart, and softly separates his arse cheeks and allows his rough stubble to tickle across Merlin’s tight furl. Merlin tries to push against him and Arthur begins the intimate massage of one of his favourite parts of Merlin; the soft, breathy moans and sounds Merlin is making drive him wild. Merlin's in heaven. The sensation of Arthur licking, sucking, and tongue-fucking him languidly is incredible. He feels desire pulsing through him, although he’s also relaxed, comfortable, there’s the ease of familiarity, an exquisiteness in the waiting, in the building tension, he’s happy to savour and enjoy this and wait for pleasure later; he knows it will come. Arthur tilts his head and kisses him until he feels drugged, then he unties his hands and carries him into the bubbling jacuzzi, settling Merlin in his lap, playing casually with his hole, his cock, but without intention, this is just about enjoying each other, taking time, breathing each other again without the madness of their children putting pressure on their time together. Merlin is humming contentedly, stroking his nimble, graceful fingers over Arthur’s nipples, sliding his tongue lazily in and out of Arthur’s mouth, dancing with his lover’s tongue. 

‘I’ve made a reservation at Carloni’s’ Arthur says. It’s one of the best restaurants in Venice, but cool and contemporary rather than the silver service traditional of the hotel they’re in. He knows Merlin prefers it like that. Merlin smiles against him and attaches himself to Arthur’s mouth. He loves kissing him, making out with him like teenagers. 

‘I really fancy snails,’ Merlin says, ‘you know like those ones we had for our tenth anniversary on the Champs Elysees, in the pots of garlic soufflé? _Ummmm_.' 

‘Wrong country baby,’ Arthur smirks, letting the bubbling water lap over them both as he shifts them in the tub, ‘but you can probably get great bruschetta?’ Merlin wrinkles up his nose and Arthur’s heart melts, ‘Mozzarella and tomato antipasti? Delicious garlic pizza bread?’ He brings Merlin’s hand to his lips and sucks in two of his fingers, imitating fellatio, feels Merlin harden against him again.

‘Are you going to stop playing with me, husband dear?’ Merlin asks exasperated, pressing himself into Arthur, sliding his own hand down to rub his fingers against Arthur’s hole. Arthur raises an eyebrow at him.

'Oh, is _that_ what you want?’ he says, and Merlin grins back at him cheekily.

‘Well it _is_ my birthday,’ he answers reasonably. Arthur smirks at him and pushes back against Merlin’s soft fingers.

‘Your wish is my command, baby,’ he breathes, lifting them both from the jacuzzi, switching it off, towelling them both down, and leading them back into the bedroom, where he lies down on the bed, spreading his knees and lifting them to his chest, holding himself open for Merlin.

‘God you’re a sight,’ Merlin whispers appreciatively, leaning down to push his tongue into Arthur’s hole. He feels Arthur gasp - he doesn’t relinquish control often - and plunders him until Arthur is arching and stroking his own cock.

‘I don’t want you to come until I’m inside you,’ Merlin murmurs quietly, and Arthur nods his acquiescence. He slowly and tenderly prepares Arthur and then slicks himself up before pushing inside in one long thrust. He presses against Arthur chest to chest and moves inside him slowly and deeply, watching the trust on his face, feeling him relax beneath him, and he loves the feeling of being _inside_ his husband. He changes the angle to hit Arthur’s prostate on every thrust and bends in half to suck Arthur’s cock whilst he’s thrusting inside of him. Arthur grips his arms in warning.

‘Merlin … god … Merlin … baby … I can’t hold off anymore, love … come with me sweetheart,’ he arches and spurts hot seed into Merlin’s mouth, who swallows him down greedily. Then he speeds up his own pace, holding himself above Arthur, feeling Arthur slide a hand round to his arse and insert a pinkie, circling him carefully whilst he’s thrusting in and it tips him over the edge and he babbles nonsense as he fills Arthur with hot come. Arthur blinks up at him, holding him close, always undone by handing over the reigns to Merlin, trusting him with his body, learning to relax without having the control. Merlin kisses his shoulder, understanding that Arthur needs a minute to come back to himself, and curls into the crook of Arthur's arm, bodily submitting to him again.

"I love you so much," he smiles, beaming up at Arthur. "Thank you for being my human." Arthur snorts and kisses his head.

"Thank you for being mine," he whispers. 

They lie pressed together for a while until Arthur drags them into the shower and insists on getting ready to explore Venice. Merlin emerges from the dressing room fifteen minutes later and Arthur wolf whistles.

‘Look at you,’ he says appreciatively, and sees Merlin flush, pleased. He’s wearing new, tight fitting dark jeans, a gorgeous navy cashmere jumper and a new black leather jacket. He looks edible as far as Arthur’s concerned. ‘Maybe we should just get room service,’ he muses, but Merlin laughs and shakes his head.

‘No you don’t, I want my trendy restaurant and the night lights of Venice please.’ He strides out of the door without a backwards glance, knowing that Arthur will follow him, and sure enough, by the time he’s reached the lifts, Arthur is pressed behind him smelling his hair, nuzzling his neck, entwining their fingers. Merlin smiles happily. Arthur will always follow him. That's the only control that Merlin needs.  


End file.
